


A Hero Is

by makingitwork



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adorable John, Cream Jumpers, Dad John, Dad Sherlock, Drabble, Happy Ending, Like Sherlock would ever marry someone uninteresting, M/M, Parentlock, Possessive Sherlock, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3460340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock have twins; Tasie and Mark Watson-Holmes. </p><p>The twins say that Sherlock is their favourite parent, because he's the loud, brave hero. </p><p>Sherlock shows them that John is pretty damn great too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hero Is

 Anastasia and Marcus Watson-Holmes were twins.

Both six years old, and very happy children.

John and Sherlock were hosting a dinner party for Molly’s birthday (much to Sherlock’s distaste) when the question popped out. Rather a slip of the tongue for Lestrade meant to ask in a quiet voice, but the whole place had fallen rather untimely silent, and so his question for the twins was loud and heard by all

“So which parent do you prefer, eh?”

“Papa.” They both chimed.

Sherlock couldn’t help the pleased flutter that shifted through him. He was Papa, John was Daddy, and he smiled at his two children, before realising that most of the attention was on John. He whirled around to look, and there was John, carrying two mugs in his hands. He set them down on the coffee table and shot everyone a small smile

“It’s fine,” he murmured good-naturedly “Uh, there’s hot chocolate here, it’s hot though, okay?” The twins stared up at him with impossibly wide and guilty eyes, and John just stroked their heads “Tasie? Mark? Are you okay?”

“We didn’t know you were there.” Anastasia said quietly, long brown curls falling onto her petite shoulders, and Marcus nodded. John nodded

“That’s fine.” He said in a quiet voice “Drink up. I’m gonna go…get some fresh air.”

“John-“

“It’s fine, Sherlock.”

And he was gone. Lestrade looked immensely apologetic and Sherlock was completely dumbfounded. He didn’t understand. Of course, he was happy to be the twins favourite, but why was he the favourite?

John read them bedtime stories, Sherlock never had the patience for it, and when John made them breakfast and dinner and got them ready for school. It was John that helped them with their homework, and learnt how to plait hair so that Tasie could be a princess. John fixed the television when it broke, and John bought them colouring pencils, and new clothes, and remembered birthdays.

So that night, while he was tucking his two little treasures into bed, John still not back though the party had ended a while ago, he asked them. “Why am I your favourite?” he murmured, brushing a hand through Marcus’ fine blond hair.

“Daddy’s nice,” Anastasia called from the bottom bunk “But he’s _boring._ Not like you, you solve mysteries, and run really fast and Daddy’s…slow.”

Marcus looked more reluctant to say anything bad about John, instead nuzzled further into the pillow, with wide blue eyes. Both of them had John’s eyes, but retained Sherlock’s tallow-white skin. And hopefully height. “Daddy’s…quieter.” Marcus settled with and Sherlock stroked a thumb over their dainty eyelashes.

“Okay,” he whispered. When he went downstairs, the dishes were being washed, and John was there, in a cream jumper and jeans, and Sherlock wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss above his ear. “ _You’re my favourite.”_

John chuckled “Didn’t have to be a detective to figure that one out,” he said fondly, placing a plate onto the side “The twins in bed?”

“Yeah.”

“You read them a story?”

“…no?”

John chuckled “They’re probably too tired to care.”

Sherlock took John by the shoulders and spun his around, looking into this eyes “They think you’re boring.” He said, and John nodded “You’re not.” His curls tumbled into his eyes “I wouldn’t have chosen you if you were boring.” He butted his forehead against John’s, and John smiled

“I don’t mind, Sherlock. Really. I’d be happy to be 2nd to you, any day.”

Sherlock’s not happy.

The next morning, he wakes up early, the twins are already plodding around the living room, and Sherlock sits them down on the sofa. “Daddy’s the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” He said, and they looked at him “I wouldn’t have married him. You know I hate boring people.”

“But…” Anastasia made a face “He doesn’t solve crimes like you-“

“He used too.” Sherlock said with a smile “Not too long ago, but he can’t now. Someone has to stay and look after you, keep you safe. We used to solve crimes together, me and daddy. We had our faces in the newspaper every week. Went to Buckingham Palace. Searched for a monster.” His eyes glittered and his children leaned in “I remember, once we were breaking into to this military base, and I didn’t think we would get in, but out of nowhere he brought up his army days, got the guard to salute him, and we were walking inside.”

“Daddy was in the army?” Marcus asked, dainty nose scrunched up “With guns?”

“Yes, and he was the very best. They called him Captain John Watson, and he was respected and saluted. The very day we met, he shot a man who was going to kill me. And then he didn’t even tell me he did it. But I knew,” he looked at Tasie, who didn’t seem as though she believed it

“Daddy’s a doctor, he wouldn’t shoot anyone, or fight anyone, or even _lie.”_

“Exactly,” Sherlock whispered, grasping her hands “Interesting. Don’t you see? Your daddy is the most brilliant man I had ever known, and he is way, way, way out of my league.”

Marcus clapped happily, but Anastasia scowled “No! No he isn’t! You’re a hero! Daddy just picks us up from school!”

She isn’t convinced. She thinks herself smarter than Marcus (she’s not. Just more stubborn) and she loves both her parents, but she knows a hero when she sees one, and her Papa is, and her daddy isn’t.

Until she turns 10.

Daddy’s picked her up from school, Marcus is out with Sherlock somewhere, and she’s telling Daddy all about her day, when he grips her hand hard, and goes very quiet. Tells her to be quiet. Then she watches, as he kicks open the door, gun in hand, and there’s a man. A man she’s never seen before, who knows Daddy’s name.

“Is this little Tasie? Oh, she’s adorable, John-“

Daddy’s punching him. So hard, and then body guards appear out of nowhere and Tasie’s screaming, but Daddy’s emerging, bruised, and battered, a hand tight around the man’s neck. “Don’t you ever come in my home again.” His hand flexes “Don’t you ever even _look_ at my daughter.”

The man smiles, but his eyes are afraid as they look at the beaten body guards. “I thought you were soft now, Doctor Watson. I’m glad to see that isn’t true.” He wipes his suit down, and disappears. Tasie’s still crying, and John lifts her up, settling her onto his hip as he calls the police, and the unconscious men are taken away, and he takes her to the bathroom, and wipes her tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered, kissing her forehead “It’s okay. It’s okay they’re gone now, and they’re never going to hurt you. Never ever.” Papa and Mark come home soon after, and Papa seems furious. Whirling about and searching the flat till he finds them in the bathroom. He flies to John, who just pushes away the coddling hands. “I’m fine, Sherlock.” He snaps, and Sherlock stares at him

“John, there’s a gash on your head. It’s bleeding really badly,” he touches it, concern covering his face “Can’t you feel it?”

John pales, “No, no I didn’t-“ he reaches up, and sure enough, his hands come back wet.

Mrs Hudson looks after the two of them while Sherlock and John are at the hospital. They come back and John goes straight to bed. Sherlock paces the whole night. Until Tasie sneaks down, peaking at him “Daddy fought them.” She whispers, and Sherlock nods “He won.”

“He’s very strong.”

“And brave.” She chimes. Both qualities fit for a hero. Sherlock collects her and Marcus, and they all sleep in the same bed. Daddy sleeps for a long time. Longer than he’s ever slept, and Papa tells her not to wake him. Marcus seems uncomfortable, watching the stillness of his father, but in the late afternoon, Daddy wakes.

And Tasie sees him.

He’s not the obvious hero, but all the qualities and makings are there, and she realises how stupid she’s been. How Marcus has always known on some level that Daddy was remarkable, and Papa had always known, but she’d been blind. She smothers him with kisses, and hugs, and love, and Daddy plaits her hair and reads her a bedtime story.

Both her parents are heroes, and she’d be happy to be 1/10th the people they are.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment?  
> x
> 
> Am I the only one who likes the nickname Tasie for Anastasia? Because I really like it.   
> x


End file.
